WOW! Four more 5-starAmazon reviews this morning. This one really astounded me. I thought I was writing comic tales about two fantasy versions of my cats, and my friend Don Skirvin, who's a wonderful composer, saw more than that.
It’s more than charming—though it’s absolutely that. These stories invite you into a world where cats talk, sing, and dance, and somehow, against all odds, a grumpy old man finds his way from isolation to love, with kitty litter crunching underfoot like breadcrumbs leading home. I adored every page. You will, too.
I’ll admit, I know Larry. I even had the privilege of reading early drafts. But none of that prepared me for the emotional depth and quiet magic of these tales. They wrapped around my heart like a warm blanket on a cold day, and I didn’t want to let go. Larry doesn’t flinch from life’s shadows—he walks through them, and that honesty makes the light shine brighter.
You’ll believe in second chances. You’ll root for the cats and the curmudgeon as they stumble, grow, and face the unknown together. And when you reach the final chapter, I suspect you’ll find yourself quietly undone, just as I was. Verklempt, yes—but grateful. Because opening your heart to the whimsical, tender adventures of West 82nd Street is its own kind of redemption.